Family values (and the wonders of biology)
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "Go!" he yelled, the sound of the horde almost deafening now as they strained and pressed against the chained doors of the arena. "I have a particular predilection for surviving large displays of pyrotechnics and, in fact, explosions."


**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or the "Addams Family." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** Crossover with the Addams Family, because fuck logic, that's why. Set in a post season five – maybe season 6x01ish scenario where the group needs to blow up a big building and all the walkers inside to save Alexandria from a bazillion zombies. – Loosely inspired by madwomanlexie's excellent drawing of Eugene carrying Carol bridal style on tumblr.

 **Warnings:** I have no excuse for myself on this one, honestly. Eugene gets sexuality excited about, um, many weird things (which explains so much imo), his is a caryler, and there are explosions.

 **Family values (and the wonders of biology)**

"Go!" he yelled, the sound of the horde almost deafening now as they strained and pressed against the chained doors of the arena. "I have a particular predilection for surviving large displays of pyrotechnics and, in fact, explosions."

His hands shook as he unwound the wire, working between them as Abraham and Tara made sounds, tugging at his vest and shirt saying things he didn't care to pay attention to. Trembling like this was his first time all over again. Living for the stale-fresh sting of dynamite on the air - on his hands - as he knelt down. Covering the act of taking a single, glorious whiff by wiping away the skiff of sweat threatening to trickle down from his temples.

Because it wasn't fear that was making them shake.

 _It was excitement._

Not that he could tell the others that.

In fact, just getting them to leave him behind was proving to be more than a challenge.

"This is not heroics, I assure you," he added, forcing himself to look up from the intriguing display as he fought the urge to juggle the remaining nitroglycerine caps. "It is a matter of chemistry and simple arithmetic."

 _And some rather conveniently inherited genes,_ he added silently.

"I promise I'll be right behind you," he urged, starting to get legitimately concerned as the seconds started to count down and the sweet scent of mouldering decay threatened to put him in a rather _compromising_ position indeed. "But you need to go now! We only get one shot at this and the timing has to be perfect or half this herd will make it to Alexandria anyway so- _just go_! Trust me!"

The spicy-sweet lure of danger was thick in the air, inviting play, but he forced himself to focus. Finding Rick and Abraham's eyes before letting the rest go. "I know considering the circumstances that is asking a lot but that's what's needed. I will be fine, I will be right behind you, but you have to go. _Now!_ "

So they did.

Sort of.

They departed in staggered clumps of gritted teeth and pleading eyes. Grudging and lax and everything his siblings would have made mock-puking gestures about until one of them accidentally pushed their finger in just a bit too far and gagged. Setting everyone else off in the process. Exorcist-puking until there was nothing left to heave up and everyone had a belly ache from laughing.

 _Ah, good times._

He could hear the others calling for him even as he set the fuse and nestled the last half dozen nitroglycerine caps into the center mass. Licking his lips with anticipation as the doors in front of him creaked and groaned – hinges straining as stressed metal screamed shrilly. Momentarily drowning out the sound of Tara and Glenn yelling for him to hurry up.

It was almost alarming how much they cared. His Great Aunt Morticia (in reality a couple times removed if you wanted to stand on ceremony) would have been so proud he'd finally managed to enthrall someone – let alone an entire group – with his lies and still manage to keep them as friends afterwards. Not even his great, great, great, great, great, grand-aunt Calpurnia had managed that. Though, she _was_ burned alive at the stake for Witchcraft so perhaps it was merely a matter of not having the opportunity. Who knows?

Nothing like a life-altering, soul-crushing lie to figure out who your real friends were.

It had been amusing, while it had lasted.

 _Intrigue. Betrayal. Seduction._

 _Well, almost._

He knew it was bit a twisted, thinking about it that way. But he couldn't help it. It was just who he was. He didn't mean anything truly sadistic about it- _okay,_ that was lie. In a very basic way he did. But it was more like that was his way of caring, you know? It was hard to explain. Needless to say he would happily walked over fire for any one of them and had – indeed, more than once seen to it that they stayed out of serious harm. His breakable, normal human friends. So fragile and…well, sometimes boring. But the world was far more interesting than it used to be so he figured it all worked out in the end.

And between him and the pavement, that punch to the face had been like _make-up sex_. _Good lord_ had he missed a little personal gratuitous violence. He'd always liked it rough and hell if Abraham hadn't delivered in spades. Now _that_ had been a punch to be proud of, make no mistake. He was just glad the man had popped him one right in the face, otherwise he would have certainly shattered all the bones in his hand. No one in the Addam's clan ever went down easy, and for good reason. He'd done some research here and there, but as you might have suspected, he – along with the entire clan – weren't exactly, well, _normal_. He might have felt guilty about that. For a little bit. Especially considering other people didn't heal the same way they did. Or, well, do _anything_ the same way people like him did.

Truth be told, the lie had never been for him in the first place. It'd been for everyone else. Hope wasn't something he needed but his Addam's blood was watered down just enough to know that _they_ did. So he'd given them some. Something to believe in. A person. A cause. A mission. In a lot of ways he figured Abraham had never given him much of a choice. It was either lie on the spot and give the man what he needed or watch him blow his brains out the back of his throat. Something which, he _had_ taken a moment to consider, purely for aesthetic purposes, of course. Otherwise it had just kind of snow-balled on him from there.

And it had been _such_ fun.

Almost better than "Wake the Dead."

 _Almost._

* * *

He set the last charge with a flourish, lips tipping upwards as he vaguely remembered something his Great Uncle Fester had said about the best usages. Car ports or something. Wondering off-hand if Fester had ever built something on this scale before and how much he'd give just to see an _inch_ of it. Alive or dead, he was sure the man would appreciate it.

Once he'd lit the fuse – filling the air with the singed smell of torn ozone and the earthy smell of his own arousal - for a long moment he actually debated it. It had been a long time some he'd been caught up in a big explosion and honestly, this 'acting normal' routine _did_ set his teeth on edge every now and again.

It was a product of having a bit of Addams blood in you, he supposed.

 _Might be good to let off a little steam._

But that was when he heard it.

The tell-tale sound of a bad fall. The surprised cry. The squeak of worn soles running back, negotiating limbs as a blast of nicotine-laced pants funneled down the hall like a mournful howl. He spared a look at the spitting fuse as the sound of Daryl helping her up, helping Carol stumble on her bad foot – rebounded. Yelling for the others to keep running as they started limping after them.

They wouldn't make it.

He hit them running, like a bull in mid-charge. Head down, strong thighs propelling him forward with a force that trembled like adrenaline-soaked pleasure through his dense bones. Laughing for the sheer manic joy of it as he scooped her up in his arms and led Daryl faster and faster down the hall. Tasting the melding chemicals starting to come together in the air, letting go of that dark little part of him that lived for this as Carol breathed hot and wet into his neck and Daryl started to lag behind. Unable to keep the mad-men-style pace he'd been able to hold since the tender age of six and a half.

He'd always been the slowest of his siblings. They'd always been able to run circles around him. Teasing him and taking turns playing leap frog off the top of his head as he tried his hardest to break even. But given the circumstances and indeed the present company, perhaps his tendency for a more slothful pace was a good thing.

 _Or maybe not._

Because the numbers counting down in the back of his mind were screaming that they weren't fast enough. That they'd lost too much time. That even as they fairly _flew_ out of the doors and into the open air, following the thin cloud of kicked up dust as the last of the others took cover behind a concrete wall on the other side of the parking lot, they were going to get caught on the outer band of it.

Mathematics. Physics. Numbers. Cause and effect. Gravity. There were some things that always remained constant, no matter who or what you were. So, naturally, instead of trying to re-write all known laws of physics, he _compromised_.

He waited until Carol tightened her death grip around his neck before he freed his right arm and let his other take her full weight. Hollering at her to hold on as he snagged Daryl by the collar of his leather vest and hauled him in front just in time to pitch all three of them down into a shallow, trash-filled ditch. Rolling safely on top with only a half-second to spare as the explosion mushroomed out and a blast of fire, glass and walker-bits whizzed out through the air just above their heads.

He turned to look, feeling it spread. Feeling it burn and shrivel at his retinas as his ear-drums sang the swan song of dying frequencies. Smiling wide and joyful as the stench of rot misted over them in a fine blood-red rain. Pebbling down his skin like he was sweating blood as he tipped his face up and welcomed it. Breathing deep as the carcinogenic fumes tickled flirtatiously at his lungs.

 _Beautiful._

He waited until the debris had stopped falling – letting a few pieces of concrete thud safely across his back and shoulders - before carefully picking himself up and peeking over the edge of the ditch. He hummed victoriously. Seeing the others already running towards them, shouting. The ruins of the arena and walker horde well and truly destroyed on the opposite end of the parking lot.

Another victory for chemistry and an over-indulgence of explosives, it would seem. Uncle Fester and Cousin Pugsley would have gone into hysterics. He was having a hard time keeping himself contained as it was. Fighting the urge to whoop and holler as the taste of rank-red threatened to seep between his lips and coat across his tongue.

He gave it until the two started to stir before he gently leaned down and picked her up again. Skipping the laborious struggle out of the ditch as Daryl clambered unsteadily over the lip and rolled onto the prickle-dry grass, breathing hard. Smiling happily and without filter as the blown-out whites of Carol's eyes focused on him with quiet incredulity.

He was about to say something, maybe about the impressive explosive range of the nitroglycerine caps or the all-around bad timing of Carol's fall when the others reached them. Expressions of joy, disbelief and the niggling little knot of suspicion starting to take root as his smile faltered. Realizing he'd forgotten exactly who his audience was in all the excitement and now had to think fast. To come up with _something_ that might explain what they _thought_ they'd seen. Something to plant enough doubt that common sense and experience would allow them to explain away as adrenaline, or the distance, even a trick of the light.

 _All he needed was a seed and their minds would happily do the planting._

 _He knew that from experience._

Making friends with normal people had never exactly been his speciality, but hell if he was going to lose them after all this. Weirdness might be coded into his genes, but even he had to admit that he'd grown more than a bit attached. Like a fungal infection, or a particularly bad case of black mold under the floorboards, he figured that for better or worse, they were now _his_ normal, boring and distressingly fragile family. In this life and perhaps even the next. Personally he was just waiting for the opportunity to do a séance, he missed Noah something awful. And while he hadn't known her, he was sure Maggie would like the chance to have a chat with her sister, certainly.

"What?" He drawled, making his expression look incredulous right back as Rosita, Tara and Abraham crowded close checking him over – worried. Watching Rick stare at him uncertainly. Like he wasn't quite ready to put suspect to voice. "A man can't be motivated into speed by the threat of imminent death by high powered explosives?"

"Mother _fuck_ ," Abraham swore, loud and crass in that way he did that warmed him to the very core of his black little heart. "Eugene! You're god damned eyebrows are singed! How the hell did you get out of that in one piece?"

Glenn clapped him on the shoulder, smiling weakly. "Bet you were wicked on track and field day at school, huh? I don't think I have ever seen anyone run that fast in my life."

"I had excellent motivation," he replied simply, feeling the blood spray still coated across his face dry-tug on his laugh-lines as he returned the gesture. Smiling awkwardly when Rick finally gave him a small nod and loped off to catch up with Michonne and Sasha who'd wandered off to deal with the handful of survivors. Dispatching the walkers cleanly as the sound of happy chatter and relieved laughter floated back on the breeze.

It was only when Carol shifted in his arms that he realized he was still holding her. Barely noticing her graceful featherweight until Aaron caught his eye and gestured silently to where Daryl was standing beside them. Just a bit closer that was strictly necessary. Having eyes only for Carol as the woman stared right back, smiling small and surprisingly open.

 _Oh._

 _Oh, right._

"Here you go," he babbled, inspiration pinging wickedly as he plunked her squarely into Daryl's outstretched arms like the world's biggest hint.

Daryl staggered a bit under the unexpected weight, crossbow thunking inelegantly into the long grass until he locked his knees and Carol settled herself snugly into the curve of his chest. Giggling at the ridiculousness of the situation right up until she tipped up her head to look at him and found Daryl gazing right back down at her. Emotions high and still singing with the dredges of adrenaline from the close call. Deliciously vulnerable in a way that firmly caught his _own_ attention as Tara nudged Maggie's arm with a shit-eating grin.

He stopped breathing in companionable sympathy as the others caught their breaths – excited.

It was the same look he'd seen a thousand times between Morticia and Gomez as they waltzed gracefully around the ballroom. Having eyes only for each other, lips inches apart, greedy and coy like a promise as Gomez dipped her. Burying his face between her breasts with amorous enthusiasm before flipping her clean over his head, up over the glittering, black-crystal chandelier and clean into his arms once more.

But for their parts, Daryl and Carol simply stared at each other.

Recognizing the moment for what it was – a transition – as the world melted away and Carol's hand came up slowly to cup his cheek. Lips trembling around a silent handful of words until he finally nodded. Leaning into her hand, touch-starved and shaking with it as he pressed his lips into the inside of her dirty palm like the entire world was ending.

It wasn't exactly sailing over the chandelier and a passionate Hallow's Eve kiss, but he had a feeling his Great Aunt and Uncle would have approved. After all, the day was still young.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.

 **Reference:** We all know that those in the Addams clan aren't exactly normal. They love the idea of death and all morbid things. They can survive electrocution, massive explosions, like – anything really. So, I turned that into a biology thing. They are faster, stronger, more able to survive things that normal people generally wouldn't last a lick on. And they often look the part: Cousin It, Fester, Lumpy Adams, etc. In this crossover the idea is that Eugene is a distant relative of the Addam's Family.


End file.
